


Heartbeats

by woollen_pharaohs



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Drabble Collection, Drunkenness, Fanart, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oral Sex, Stitches, fan art included as separate chapter, missing scenes/flashbacks, stylised breaks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-23 05:12:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3755677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woollen_pharaohs/pseuds/woollen_pharaohs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles exploring Matt and Foggy's relationship since law school to present. Each drabble is inspired by selected quotes from the show.  </p><p>"Out into the suburbs Matt grips his arms tight around Foggy’s waist. Speeding up, the sounds slip behind him, a crescendo of rustling leaves, skateboard wheels on pavement, whispers and screams, an amalgamation of the noises the city elicits."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

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“All I ever needed was my friend.”

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It’s late and Matt’s still awake because Foggy’s still awake. He’s sick with some kind of chest infection and it’s kind of cute actually, he’s trying earnestly not to cough through the whole night, not wanting to disturb Matt. But Matt can practically feel it in his own throat, the way Foggy holds the coughs in, lets the air swell in his lungs but no higher. The phlegm bubbling in his chest. And when Foggy breathes through his mouth, a controlled steadiness, Matt imagines it feels like a hot wind over a dry desert, rough and raspy. Foggy lies there in bed, back to the mattress to open up his airways, so still and controlled and forcefully awake.

“Just let it out,” Matt finally says, his voice slicing through the darkness.

Foggy jumps at the sound of Matt’s voice, aware that Matt’s voice is devoid of drowsiness. His roommate tries to speak but the moment he unlocks the passageways the coughs are unleashed.

After the worst of it gets out, Foggy tries to harness his illness again, taking steady breathes to calm himself, “well that was embarrassing. But also a relief.”

Matt sits up in his bed, gripping the sheets, “you shouldn’t hold your coughs in for my sake Foggy. It’ll only make you worse off.”

Foggy lets out a few more coughs, then says, “dude it’s not just you. I feel pretty bad for everyone else in the dorm too.”

Matt laughs and swings his legs out of bed, sliding his feet across the floorboards until he finds his slippers, “I’ll go out and get you some cough medicine.”

Matt hears Foggy waving his hands at Matt, then speaks after clearing his throat, “no dude, it’s like 4am probably.”

Feeling the brail numbers on the face of his alarm clock, Matt states, “it’s almost midnight. The college store will still be open.”

“Seriously? It’s not even midnight? It’s felt like forever just lying here. But dude no, I will feel seriously guilty if you go out at this hour. I’ll get some stuff for myself in the morning.”

He pauses, “okay,” and he gets up, shuffling in his slippers over to Foggy’s bed. He sits on the edge of his friend’s mattress.

Foggy’s heart beats faster, “what are you doing?”

 _What_ are _you doing Matt Murdock?_

“You can’t sleep right?” Matt swallows.

“Yeah…” Foggy replies as he sinks back into the mattress.

Matt lifts his chin, “roll to the side,”

“Okay boss,” Foggy says, confusion laced in his voice.

Matt reaches for his friend, starts at his shoulder, his fingers lingering over Foggy’s long knotty hair. He curves his touch over Foggy’s shoulder, he can disguise it as him trying to find his way but he’s also most definitely doing it on purpose. Sexual pretence aside, Matt starts to rub Foggy’s back, smoothing out the tension, allowing Foggy’s coughs to come out easy, painlessly. Foggy’s probably watching him, hopefully it’s dark enough so that Foggy can’t see his facial expression. Just in case, he turns his face away.

“My mom used to do this for me when I was young,” Foggy says softly, drowsiness overcoming him.

“The nuns at St Agnes did it for the, uh, particularly loud kids. Helped them relax.”

Foggy’s coughing reduces and he speaks in a drawl, “don’t want you to get sick…”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

Matt lies behind Foggy, continues to rub his back. He welcomes the silence, buries his face in Foggy’s hair and forgets to pay attention to the exact moment Foggy falls into deep sleep.

 

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“And what, you just played along?”

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Foggy lays in Matt’s bed, silk sheets wrapped around his bare legs making him feel like a millionaire. When he opens his eyes though, blaring red light cuts through the dirty windows casting him and his partner in murky blood. Foggy shuts his eyes again, the redness blotching his vision. Matt stirs and Foggy listens to the breath of wakefulness. He reaches out, his hand finding Matt’s chest, lightly outlining the swollen bruises marring Matt’s skin.

“Dude some of your wounds, they’re really bad,” Foggy says, pressing his lips on Matt’s shoulder.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me.”

“But seriously,” Foggy continues, gently dragging his fingers over the bumps of the stitches, “really doesn’t look like the kind of thing you’d get from falling while _taking out the trash_.”

Matt jerks away from Foggy’s touch, “Just drop it Foggy, I can take care of myself.”

Foggy frowns, “Just saying, doesn’t really look like it.”

Matt rejects Foggy’s touch and sits up, swinging his legs out of bed, “I’m always careful. Sometimes being careful isn’t enough.”

Foggy watches as Matt grips the mattress, his muscles going tense and Foggy can sure as hell take a hint.

“I better get back to the office.”

“The office?” Matt throws the words over his shoulder, “Isn’t it a bit late?”

Foggy scratches his head as he clambers off the mattress, “yeah I meant to say _home_ , better get home…”

Starting up their own practice was the dream. Foggy just didn’t realize that ignoring the fine details meant that he would end up, well, homeless. And it’s true that he felt ashamed, but he wasn’t about to ask Matt for help. The guy doesn’t have to know that he sleeps in their office on a pile of old boxes. He finds his boxers and shimmies back into them, shuffles through the sheets to find the rest of his clothes.

He wants Matt to say, don’t go. He wants Matt to pull him back on his bed and say, stay. He wants Matt to fuck him again like he did last night and say, please I want more of you.

But he doesn’t. Matt stays on the edge of his mattress, back facing Foggy, and oh boy, can Foggy take a hint.

 

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“I need someone I like listening to.”

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From all the stories about the kind of professions the Nelson family takes on, Matt’s expecting Foggy’s graduation gift to be something simple, like an apron with some funny slogan on it, or a tool kit or something. Honestly he doesn’t really know what he was expecting, nothing so… extreme.

Matt takes his hand away from the handle and grips his cane, lips tight.

“I know that face Murdock. Come on, chicks dig motorcyclists!” Foggy says, excitement evident in his voice.

“Yeah, do they?” Matt shifts his weight to his right foot, “they’re just really dangerous, right?”

“Hey, I don’t worry about you, you don’t worry about me,” Foggy takes up his helmet, “you wanna go for a ride?”

Matt can so easily see Foggy’s wicked grin painted on his face, hears the anticipation build in Foggy’s chest, “You got a spare one of those?”

Foggy practically jumps in excitement, swinging his leg over the seat. He picks up the spare helmet and hands it to his friend.

Matt stands by the bike, helmet snug on his head, “I’ve uh, I’ve never been on one before.”

“Buddy, you’re in for a treat with this one,” he says, “just sit behind me, and hold on.”

It starts off slow at first, Foggy gets used to the feeling of driving with an extra passenger. They ride through their campus’ streets, the leaves of the trees shivering as they pass. Out into the suburbs Matt grips his arms tight around Foggy’s waist, speeding up, the sounds slip behind him, a crescendo of rustling leaves, skateboard wheels on pavement, whispers and screams, an amalgamation of the noises the city elicits.

Up on the highway Matt smells tar and oil and the steamy stench of the dirty river. They drive in long stretches, broken by traffic lights. At each slow, each speed up, each lean to turn, Matt feels Foggy’s pulse thrumming through his leather jacket. Senses, through Foggy, the passage of traffic, his reactions to a slow moving truck, to a hasty taxi. He can tell Foggy’s hungry but he’s having too much fun, driving over the city with a hurricane whipping up behind them.

Matt tastes the air, moist and humid, it’s about to rain. Foggy’s stomach rumbles so loud Matt doesn’t even have to focus on it to feel the vibrations. He has to shout over Foggy’s shoulder, tells him to pull in at the next drive thru. Rain starts to seep out of the clouds as they turn into a burger place. They park the bike in the covered spaces, take shelter in the awning before going in to order. After, they sit outside with their purchases, Foggy hates sitting inside those places. The rain patters on the asphalt, heavy at first, angry and violent, then as time wears on, the frustrations reduce and the clouds rain gentle streams.

Between mouthfuls of a sugary burger, Matt asks, “hey Foggy?”

“Yeah?” Foggy replies, mouth equally as full with food.

“Can you describe the city for me please?”

Foggy swallows, “what do you mean, like how it looks right now?”

Matt nods. He listens to Foggy contemplate, the words in his throat formulating into coherency.

“Well… it’s raining.”

Matt laughs, “I know, what else?”

Foggy’s nervous but he continues anyway, “uh, well, it’s raining, here, on us, but over there, I mean, over in the west side of Hell’s Kitchen, it’s not. The sun’s pouring over the city… the way the building shine from the rain, makes them look new, and not…”

“Half destroyed?” Matt suggests.

Foggy chuckles, “Yeah! And… I like the way rainfall makes the city quiet. Everyone goes back inside, like they think the rain will last forever. But it never lasts.”

 

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“Down in the alley, where we used to…”

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Foggy slings Matt’s arm over his shoulder as they burst out of Josie’s, the cool night air bouncing off their warm skin, alcohol creating a layer of tingling static over their skin. They make their way down the street, singing and swaying, the freedom of quitting a horrible internship having swept them into celebration. Holding onto Foggy, Matt swings his cane in a circular motion, moves back and forward with Foggy in some sort of makeshift dance.

His mind is heavy with stupid thoughts and brilliant ideas mashed together by spirits he can’t remember taking. He’s not paying enough attention, completely forgetting just how uncoordinated he can be as he trips on uneven ground. He falls sideways, pulling Matt with him. The two collapse into a side alley, cut off from the sharp winds that slice through the city streets.

Foggy shifts over Matt’s legs, tries to sit straight, sit still, holds onto Matt’s shoulders to steady himself, “my head won’t stop spinning.”

Matt grins, pressing his tongue against his teeth, “I really like that bar.”

He leans in and presses his forehead against Matt’s and says, “me too buddy.”

Foggy hovers in that position for a moment, listening to Matt’s hitched breathes in the cool autumn air. He pulls away after a moment, was that a sigh of exasperation he heard? He shakes it off.

“And you know what? I really like this whole fucking street. Even this stupid alley way is pretty alright!”

Matt holds onto Foggy’s elbows, his fingers stiff in his gloves, “you’re thinking of looking for places here?”

“Yeah but not for me, for _us_ ,” Foggy says. He knows how weird that sounds so he quickly tacks on, “for our business.”

“For our business,” Matt echoes.

There’s a flicker of change across Matt’s face before he smiles again, baring his perfectly straight teeth, but it’s a soft smile and Foggy finds himself drawn to Matt’s profile. He flinches when he feels Matt’s bare fingers touch his neck, somehow he’d been staring at Matt so long that he didn’t notice his friend taking off his gloves. Matt drags his fingertips over Foggy’s jawline, traces over Foggy’s stubble and up to his lips. He grazes his fingertips of Foggy’s lips and Foggy has to wonder if Matt is making it so sexual on purpose.

He gets his answer when Matt presses his lips against Foggy’s, a gentle, tender kiss, and Foggy finds himself slowly leaning into Matt’s warmth. Matt thumbs Foggy’s cheeks as he digs his fingers into Foggy’s hair, and Foggy can’t help but moan into Matt’s mouth. His own hands feel useless, numb, and he tries to fish them between Matt’s open jacket to hold his waist, hold him tighter but he ends up punching Matt’s knee in the process.

Matt makes a gargled questioning type of noise and he breaks away from Foggy.

Foggy instinctively backs up, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and says, “Sorry…. I ugh, I didn’t mean to.”

Matt reaches out for Foggy’s arm, holding it as he talks, “It’s fine. Foggy, can I kiss you again?”

“You want to?” Foggy asks with genuine surprise, completely disregarding the fact that it had been Matt who had kissed him in the first place.

“Yeah, I’d really like to.”

 

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“Now you’re just showing off.”

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“Hey Matt?” Foggy asks from his bed.

“Yeah?” Matt replies, taking his attention away from his braille display.

“Is there like, porn for blind people?”

Matt laughs, leaning back in his chair, “My ears still work Foggy.”

“Yeah like obviously you can _listen_ to pornos but I wanna know about like, I mean, do you _read_ porn on your computer?”

Matt swivels his chair in Foggy’s direction and shrugs, “You’re asking if I read erotica?”

Foggy nods and seconds later corrects himself by voicing his action. He kind of wishes he could tell Foggy he doesn’t have to do that, but then he’s have to tell the guy so much more.

“Yeah well, occasionally,” Matt admits sheepishly.

His friend pushes his text books aside and sits on the edge of his bed, “oh man, that is so cool! So discreet, aw man you could just be like sitting in the library and be reading porn and no one would be the wiser.”

Matt scratches his head, “or I could have been doing it now and you wouldn’t have guessed.”

Foggy gets off his bed and dashed over to Matt’s desk, “you sly fox! How do I get the browser history out of this thing?” he asks as he picks up Matt’s computer, “show me the porn! Show me Matt Murdock’s dirty little secrets!”

“Hey, stop that,” Matt laughs in weak protest, trying to grab his computer out of his friend’s hands.

Foggy stretches his arms high above his head, and Matt uses the opportunity to yank at the cord. The move pulls Foggy down into his lap, the computer slipping out of his hands and crashing on the floorboards. Foggy, having lost his balance, places both hands on Matt’s thighs.

“I think I broke it,” Foggy says from between Matt’s legs.

Matt tenses from Foggy’s body being so close to his, the feel of his friend’s small hands clenching onto his thighs, his hair draping over his lap. Foggy doesn’t move an inch and he holds his breath. There’s a moment of silence. Matt’s painfully aware of their hearts beating in sync, fast, nervous and swelling with trepidation.

“Um, so were you reading porn just then or…?” Foggy asks, slowly lowering himself onto his knees in front of Matt.

Matt almost drops his sunglasses as he lifts them off his face, places them on his desk, his hands shaking, clammy, “no, I, uh, I wasn’t.”

Foggy keeps his hands on Matt’s thighs, edges them higher, “I don’t know whether to believe that or not.”

Foggy’s fingers stretch up Matt’s thighs causing him to straighten his back, crane his neck, “wouldn’t have made a difference…” he drawls.

“You’re so handsome,” Foggy says, reaching the top of Matt’s thighs.

Matt swallows, “yeah I know, you told me already,” he reaches for Foggy’s hand and presses it against his hardening cock, clothed by his sweatpants.

_Dear God, please forgive him for being so forward._

He hears Foggy’s heartbeat hammer in his throat and it’s a wakeup call. He pushes Foggy’s hand away and says, “That made me sound vain. I’m sorry, is this weird?”

Foggy scoots closer, wraps his arms around Matt’s waist, slipping his hands beneath the pyjama shirt, “it’s fine Matty. Besides, I already know you like showing off.”

At that, Matt pushes the chair out from underneath him so he can kiss Foggy, the chair clattering on the floor behind him. He knots his fingers into Foggy’s hair, thumbing his ears, tasting his lazy lips. He lowers his weight gently over Foggy, careful for his boner not to cause too much alarm.

“See, what did I tell you?” Foggy grins, sticking his tongue out.

Matt pecks Foggy’s cheek, his stubble scratchy. Matt’s legs either side of Foggy’s body, he takes in the image of what lays before him, an inferno writhing on the floorboards, threatening to ignite the room. Blotches of hot spots burn white around Foggy’s throat, his heart, trailing down to his abdomen. He kisses Foggy once, briefly, taking in the flavour of cheezels, of soft drink and cheap beer.

Foggy curves his back as Matt tugs off Foggy’s sweater, his friend’s long hair a tangle, flickering embers knotted, fraying. Foggy tucks his sweater under his head, back arching again as Matt drags his hands down Foggy’s waist, strips him naked.

“I wish you could see me,” Foggy rasps.

Matt takes hold of Foggy’s dick, briefly sucks, licks the head, a tease. Foggy moans and Matt picks up on questions outside their room, on murmurs, on gossip. He blocks them out by focusing on Foggy, on his chest rising, falling, hitching. On the way Foggy’s fingers lock and jar when Matt encases Foggy’s cock in his mouth.

Matt sucks then lets go, mouths Foggy’s shaft as he speaks, “who’s the vain one now?”

Foggy tries to laugh but it morphs into a moan as Matt takes him again, slow, his hands raking Foggy’s skin, his stomach, his sides, his back, his ass.

“How are you-“ Foggy groans, interrupted by Matt’s teeth grazing his shaft, his tongue slipping across the skin, “-so good at this?”

Foggy’s a volcano, molten magma roiling in a shattering shell. He clutches onto Matt’s shoulders, clawing, all the while Matt learns what touch, what tease, generates pleasure in Foggy and manipulates it, tells Foggy’s future as if he predicted it himself. Matt harnesses the fire, tames it, isolates it until it extinguishes. He makes Foggy erupt, lets him melt into him in waves of jolted pleasure, and it’s Foggy’s cries, foggy’s panting, his clutching, his heart beating, his blood pulsing. Matt comes, undistinguished, in his sweatpants, his pyjama shirt sticking to his clammy skin.

He lets Foggy sag to the floorboards, lets the lava set, reform. The man’s throat parched for liquid. He lies beside his roommate, stiff floorboards causing his muscles discomfort. But as he cools off he senses Foggy wanting to say something, anticipates the passionate words but they’re never spoken. And as he lies there, he begins to feel empty again, a void drips between them, expands into a vacuum. Foggy’s gone, and it’s just Matt and a city on fire, and only he has the power to put it out.

 

 

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“I wouldn’t have kept this from you.”

√v  ̶̶^√v  ̶̶  ̶v  ̶̶^√v  ̶̶^√

 “Was anything ever real with us?”

√v  ̶̶^√v  ̶̶  ̶̶̶  ̶̶̶  ̶̶̶  ̶̶̶  ̶̶̶  ̶̶̶  ̶̶̶  ̶̶̶  ̶


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonus fan art by captainreverie (tumblr)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I've never included fan art in one of my works before so i really hope i'm doing this right!)

Matt just showing off... (by [captainreverie](http://captainreverie.tumblr.com/post/116460847767/for-woollen-pharaohs-because-she-got-stuck-with-a))


End file.
